i never feel like more of an alien than i do when i’m walking through a flea market. i look at all the people crowding the tables, sifting through picture frames, lamps, binoculars, old clocks, toy trucks, picking up dishes, pulling out chairs and giving them a test-ride, so forth, poring over china, crappy paintings, etc.
i do not get it.
when i moved to germany, i came here with nothing
but whatever i could stuff in a backpack.
since then, i have attained a few books, a couple more pieces of clothing, and a printer. everything else just seems like clutter to me. i don’t wanna think about picture frames, i don’t wanna have to contemplate binoculars, toy trucks or old clocks.
but sometimes i look at people contemplating these things and i think,
“wait, maybe they’re right.
maybe desiring after little semi-useless possessions
and sane. maybe there is some charm to it,
some magic in the items themselves.”
then i remember socrates.
there’s a story about how he was barefoot and walking
through the athenian marketplace. he stopped
suddenly, shook his head as if in disbelief.
“what is it, socrates?”
asked the guy that was with him. “i just can’t believe,” said socrates,
“how many things
there are in the world that i just don’t want.”
(fuck things. fuck the need for them)…